It’s been two weeks since I became a mom, and never have two weeks felt so long and so fast at the same time.
The most powerful thing my body has ever done is to grow a life inside of it. No personal miracle that I have ever experienced comes close to discovering the scale of my body’s capacity: to create, transform, and nurture another life.
“Sometimes chaos is the very thing that deliberately shakes up our neatly ordered worlds in order to get us out of the neatly ordered ruts that have kept us stuck,” says Craig Lounsbrough.
I just stumbled into a place commonly called a limbo.
Dear Baby Willey,
Currently, you’ve been in my tummy for 18 weeks. My app says you’re as big as a sweet potato, about 5.5 inches and 5 ounces. Another app says you’re the size of a croissant, and I’m imagining how your little face is reacting to the size references these pregnancy apps are giving me. Is your balled fist raising to celebrate the comparison or are you indignantly pouting, as I would, to false assumptions?
We were biking along the streets of Luang Prabang, Laos. It was a December morning and another particularly chilly day (for my tropical standards). The streets were quiet—almost meditative. We stopped at a neighborhood pharmacy, parked our vintage Japanese bikes on the curb, and navigated our way into asking the middle-aged Laotian proprietress for a pregnancy test kit.
We were seated on a long table out in the garden, an exquisite vintage blue and white ceramic plate across from each of us, and the sun straining through a half-arch vine of greens above us.
From where my husband and I were seated, we could see the hill-like garden of Villa Galleotti, sprinkled neatly with patches of pomodoro, basilico (basil), oliva (olives), and more.